The Policeman's Ball
by Jayneysuk
Summary: Boyd takes Grace to the Ball. What happens next is anyone's guess.
1. Chapter 1

-1**Title:The Policeman's Ball**

**Pairing:Grace/Boyd**

**Rating:PG**

**Summary:His little black book had effectively dried up**

**Spoilers:Nothing specific but up to and including Series six to be Notes:Spending all day blistering medication your mind wanders and this is what you get. Something a little lighter than Clarity and Salvation.**

**The Policeman's Ball**

**Chapter One**

Peter Boyd hated formal functions, actually parties in general, and anywhere where he had to dress up. When he actually escaped from work for an evening he preferred to throw on a pair of jeans and watch the Discovery Channel, but in this instance he had no choice but to attend. The Chief Constable had basically told him so.

That left him with one dilemma. The invitation had said 'And guest' so instead of heading home he was sitting in his office pondering who to take. His little black book, and he wondered what Grace would make of his referring to the few women he had dated as that, had effectively dried up, most of them now married to someone else, his job putting pay to any social life.

He had to take someone. The last thing he really wanted was to spend the evening stuck talking to former colleagues he disliked or hiding in a corner getting drunk on over priced scotch. The one person he had considered inviting was Grace, she was the practically the only female friend he hadn't driven away and he actually enjoyed spending time with her outside of work. He just wasn't sure how to ask her.

A knock at the door disrupted his thoughts and he looked up at she entered and casually dropped on to his couch.

"Penny for them!"

"Policeman's Ball," he offered by way of explanation, waving the invitation in the air.

"Trying to come up with an excuse not to go again?" They had worked together for nearly eight years and every year he had declined to go, every year he had been creative enough to come up with a different excuse.

"Apparently it's not optional," Boyd sighed.

Grace grinned. "Well that's just asking for trouble."

"What? You think I can't behave myself for a few hours?"

She pretended to ponder it for a few moments. "Can you?"

"I'm going to look a bit stupid reciting the Tempest all night."

"Preferable to you shouting at the chief Constable," Grace stated matter-of-factly.

"You could come and save me from myself," he said candidly.

"I'm washing my hair that night."

"We both know you do that in the morning." It amused him that he knew that little detail about her.

Grace rolled her eyes. "You're asking me to be your date?"

"Technically it won't be a date. I mean there won't be se. . . Yeah, I guess I am."

She stared at him, debating whether or not to call his bluff. "Ok, but it takes more than a few drinks to get me back for a nightcap."

"Damn and I thought all it took was a decent bottle of Merlot."

Grace picked up the nearest thing to hand, his Evening Standard, and threw it at him. It sailed past his head, landing fragmented on the floor.

"Two bottles?" he asked cheekily, swiftly positioning his chair closer to the window as she rose to her feet.

"Night, Boyd," she said, shaking her head at him.

"Goodnight, Grace." He watched her return to her office, suddenly feeling less stressed than he had in weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

-1**Title:The Policeman's Ball**

**Pairing:Grace/Boyd**

**Rating:PG**

**Summary:His little black book had effectively dried up**

**Spoilers:Nothing specific but up to and including Series six to be Notes:Spending all day blistering medication your mind wanders and this is what you get. Something a little lighter than Clarity and Salvation.**

**Chapter Two**

"Wow, I didn't realise they were changing the dress code around here," Spencer said, propping himself up against the doorframe. "Nice threads, Gracie."

"I feel a little like the Christmas fairy." She turned around trying to catch a glimpse of herself in the window.

"You look great. I'd put you on my tree any day."

Grace chuckled and waved her hand at him, "I love you too, Spence."

Boyd appeared behind him wearing a tuxedo and looking pretty sexy himself. "You ready?"

Spence turned and pulled a face. "Ah, the oldies are going out. You sure you trust us kids to play nicely?"

"Please don't wind him up, he's tetchy enough as it is," Grace said, wrapping her jacket around her and picking up her bag.

"Have a good time, don't do anything I wouldn't."

"In that case, Spence, I can have a really good time," she teased, stepping around him and lightly patting his lapels.

Boyd smiled a knowing smile and began to follow her.

"Don't keep her out too late, Boss," Spencer called, grinning and heading back to his desk.

"I wouldn't wait up, Spence," Grace countered, falling into step with her boss.

"We need only stay a few hours," Boyd offered, placing his hand lightly on her back as he guided her towards his car.

"I was planning on dancing till dawn," Grace teased lightly. "I've given up a fun filled evening for this."

He looked at her sceptically.

"You need to lighten up, Boyd."

"In that case can we should go to my place, open a bottle of wine and watch the history channel." He gave her a cheeky smile.

"Really, we should discuss your pick up techniques one of these days." Climbing in his car, she waited until she was buckled up before she spoke. "One of these days he will fire you. One of these days he'll have enough evidence and you'll lose the Cold Case team. Don't him cause."

Boyd turned to look at her, seeing something in her eyes that he hadn't seen for a while. "Just don't blame me when it goes pear shaped."

"Is it time to go yet?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "We've only just got here."

"Your point is?"

"You owe me a glass of wine and a dance."

"Grace, Grace, Grace," Peter sighed. "I'll gladly get you as much wine as you can drink but I don't dance."

"We'll see."

He groaned inwardly, recognizing her tone.

An hour later he was beginning to regret his promise as they finished off their second bottle of wine before they had even sat down for dinner and he knew they would need a taxi.

Grace was flushed, smiling and gesturing as she chatted with the other guests at their table.

Boyd has taken to sitting back and watching her. In all honesty he had never expected them to become friends and it had happened without him realizing. They were two people from very different backgrounds, both broken and scarred, whose work had been the only thing they had in common. Something had drawn them to each other and for all the arguing and sarcasm, he truly respected her and her opinions and classed her as one of his few good friends.

"Boyd, you're zoning out," Grace whispered, leaning in towards him.

"I'm bored shitless."

"I'm sorry I'm not more scintillating company." She lightly rested her hand on his thigh, her finger tips light and gentle.

Boyd glanced down at his leg and back up at her face, his eyes locking with hers, his lips quirking upwards.

"Boyd?" she asked, confusion evident in her voice as she quickly went to move her hand.

Briefly, he stopped her, a mischievous glint, the effects of the wine evident, on his face. "I was just thinking that you've finally touched upon a way to get me to behave."


	3. Chapter 3

-1**Title:The Policeman****'****s Ball**

**Pairing:Grace/Boyd**

**Rating:PG**

**Summary:His little black book had effectively dried up**

**Spoilers:Nothing specific but up to and including Series six to be Notes:Spending all day blistering medication your mind wanders and this is what you get. Something a little lighter than Clarity and Salvation.**

Chapter Three

The taxi came to a standstill outside Grace's semi-detached house and she clambered out of the door, practically falling on the pavement. How they had gotten there was a haze, the last thing she remembered was sitting down at the table for dinner and vaguely disjointed fragments of conversation thereafter. Her main focus now was on her purse and trying to find the key amongst the plethora of things she carried around with her.

Climbing out after her, Boyd paid the driver, and watched somewhat curiously as the taxi drove away, disappearing around the corner. Glancing up and down the quiet street he wondered fleetingly how he was going to get home before he shrugged, deciding it was a problem for another time, and followed her up the path.

Grace tried to slip the key in the lock, watching as it circled and missed. However hard she tried to focus the silver key slipped, scratching the door.

Boyd stepped up beside her, watching with amusement at her attempts before he smugly covered her hand with his own and unlocked the door on the first try.

She playfully slapped his arm and stepped inside.

"Aren't you going to invite me in for coffee?" he asked playfully, wondering why he suddenly felt like a teenager again.

"Boyd, would you like a coffee?" Grace asked, staring at him as she tried to focus.

"Well my ride left." He followed her into the kitchen and watched as she opened the cupboard and lifted out two mugs. "Should I do that?" he asked as she almost knocked one of them onto the floor.

"Sure, why not." She waved her hand dangerously close to the boiling kettle and he edged her aside as he made coffee, feeling strangely at home in her kitchen.

Ten minutes later they sat drinking coffee in her small sitting room, the lights turned low to stay her ensuing headache, neither actually talking for once.

Grace was drunk, that she was certain off. She blamed it on the bottle of table wine with dinner, which was cheap and definitely of mixed grapes but drinkable or at least she assumed so considering how much she had consumed. It was unusual for her to let herself get into quite such a state, to reach the point of losing rationality, especially in her present company, but she'd reached a point in her life of no regrets. They were for the young. Scrupulously, she glanced at Boyd, wondering whether he felt quite as bad as she did, quite as disorientated. He was leaning back against her chair, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. Strangely she felt safe having him there, settled in the familiarity. With a deep sigh she rose to her feet, fully intent on fetching him a blanket. It was clear he wasn't going to make it home and intending to leave him to sleep it off, she took a step. Her head spun and she reached out for the arm of the chair.

Boyd decided he had drunk too much when he opened his eyes and the artex on the ceiling made him queasy. He closed them again immediately and lowered his head onto the back of her sofa. A few hours sleep and a pot of coffee would make him feel himself again, that was if he could ever get home. He heard Grace stir beside him and he chanced opening his eyes again. It wasn't his wisest decision he quickly determined. As if in slow motion he watched her body sway.

Within seconds she felt his arms around her waist, his breath against her ear as he stopped her tripping into the couch. "Grace."

The sound of her name on his lips, his body pressing against hers sent shivers through her body. Fleetingly she wondered what would happen if she turned in his arms, if their lips met, whether they would be drunk enough, crazy enough to actually forget who they were. She banished it to the dark recesses of her mind where it belonged and righted herself, instantly missing the warmth of his body. "I need to sleep."

"Ok," he whispered.

"And I'm going to have a headache in the morning."

"You and me both."

"I'm going to go upstairs now."

He nodded, waiting for her to move, not fully sure what was happening. "Want me to help you upstairs?"

Grace gave him a small smile. "I think that would be a wise decision."


	4. Chapter 4

-1**Title:The Policeman****'****s Ball**

**Pairing:Grace/Boyd**

**Rating:PG**

**Summary:His little black book had effectively dried up**

**Spoilers:Nothing specific but up to and including Series six to be Notes:Spending all day blistering medication your mind wanders and this is what you get. Something a little lighter than Clarity and Salvation.**

**Chapter Four**

Grace opened her eyes, instantly regretting the motion as sunlight flooded her room through the open curtains. She inwardly groaned, rolling over onto her side and pulling the duvet up around her. It was then that she saw him and her stomach did the weird little flipping thing it always did when he looked vulnerable. Her brain instantly went into overdrive, flashes from the night before coming back to her then a sudden realisation. Slowly, silently, she lifted the covers, half relieved, half bemused when she saw she still had her lingerie on but somehow had lost her dress.

Boyd stirred beside her, mumbling incoherently as he tried to adjust his pillow, vulnerability replaced momentarily with annoyance then with contentment.

It made her smile to watch him sleep, his body as in consciousness constantly processing everything, the softening of his features as he gently awoke. Propping herself up on her elbow she continued to study him. As he shifted position again the duvet slipped slightly, revealing a little more of his chest and she noticed with satisfaction that his shirt had been discarded, his dress trousers folded over the back of the chair. There was some pleasure in the fact he had been coherent enough to undress them and had chosen to sleep beside her rather than roam her house in search of her spare bed. Fleetingly, she pondered missed opportunities, acknowledging that they had been given the chance to sleep together, to do what she had wanted for as long as she had known him but even inebriated and sharing a bed they had stopped at the waters edge. He would never let them get in that position again, and she would never know what she was missing.

Boyd rolled over again, his arm reaching out to slap the pillow that was crowding his face.

Grace glanced down, mentally calculating the last time she had felt a man's face in her cleavage. She concluded it was long ago enough to want to savour the moment. His breath tickled her skin and she suppressed the urge to run her fingers through his hair.

His hand collided with something that clearly wasn't a pillow, his fingertips teasing the soft strands of hair. He stiffened as the previous nights events came flooding back and realisation hit. Opening his eyes she came into focus, the smile he loved so much teasing at her lips, her hair tousled from sleep. Gamely, he allowed his eyes to wander momentarily, blaming an impending headache for his lapse in professionalism.

"Good morning, Boyd," she said, her tone light, almost relaxed.

He growled something in response, as his eyelids fluttered shut. A thousand thoughts flittered through his mind, as he chided himself for being stupid enough to allow himself to awake in this situation, berating his career for putting the imaginary line between them, his fingers toying with her hair as he imagined what it would be like to continue his exploration, knowing that it was far too whimsical for someone usually so grounded.

"Would you like coffee?" she asked, unconsciously leaning into his touch.

He pulled his hand away and she instantly missed his touch. The longer his eyes remained shut the more she contemplated how embarrassed he was, how silly she was for even thinking he would want to be with her. "I'll make a pot."

"Great."

Climbing out of bed, she retrieved her robe from the floor by the dresser and padded downstairs, trying and failing to smooth her errant hair. As she routed around in a drawer for some painkillers she was glad to have some distance between them. Somehow or another they had to work together, to move beyond what she knew would be, to everyone, awkwardness.

Boyd appeared in the kitchen doorway five minutes later, in his tuxedo, his top buttons open, his tie trailing out of his pocket and she could barely stop herself staring.

The minute she had left the bedroom he had rushed to get dressed, thankful that his clothes were neatly folded and not tossed around the room. Taking a deep breath he had contemplated just where he had allowed their friendship to step over the imaginary line, acknowledging finally that it had been inevitable. Unfortunately he knew that time and circumstances would never be in alignment. So when he caught her staring, he misinterpreted her action for embarrassment and he hated that their friendship had to be tested by something so silly. "I'm going to call a taxi."

"Ok."

He retrieved his mobile from his pocket. "I'm going to need the address."

"Yeah." She nodded, scribbling on a piece of paper, seconds from adding her phone number and making a comment about the bane of singleton life and men never calling. Turning away from him she half listened to his call as she poured two cups of coffee, adding just enough milk to make it the way he liked it. She shook two pills from the ibuprofen bottle and held out both for him to take.

"Thanks," he said, ending the call and swallowing the two pills. "He'll be here in five or so."

"Ok." She hated that she couldn't string a sentence together but he looked so out of place she really wasn't sure how to make him feel comfortable. Of course the fact he had seen her half-naked was probably not helping matters. She wasn't twenty-five anymore after all.

"Thanks for the coffee. I'll wait outside."

"I'll see you at work."

He smiled and she actually thought it might be alright. Instantly he looked away and Grace knew the road ahead would be bumpy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:The Policeman's Ball**

**Pairing:Grace/Boyd**

**Rating:PG**

**Summary:His little black book had effectively dried up**

**Spoilers:Nothing specific but up to and including Series six to be Notes:Spending all day blistering medication your mind wanders and this is what you get. Something a little lighter than Clarity and Salvation. The final instalment which I hope leaves you wanting more. . . **

**Chapter Five**

Grace walked into the office, glancing discreetly at Boyd's office before dropping her belongings on her desk. "Good morning, all," she called into the bullpen.

"Cinderella returns," Spence teased. "And you didn't turn into pumpkin. Good night?"

"I think so."

"Oh I smell a story." Stella grinned, leaning forward onto her hands. "Do tell all."

"Too much cheap table wine," Grace dismissed. She had no intention of sharing the details, or rather what she had managed to piece together in the daily commute.

Boyd came bustling through the doors, his head down, acknowledging no one before heading into his office and closing the door.

"What did he do?" Spence asked, watching his boss' path and half expecting to hear the worst. "Who did he manage to piss off?"

Grace glanced back towards his office, wondering how they were going to get through the day if he was planning on avoiding her. "He was on his best behaviour."

"Well something's pissed him off." Spence groaned. "Did you make sure he left the dinner with you?"

She glared back at him. "What am I? His keeper?"

Spencer gave Grace his most charming smile. "Well God knows left to his own devices he can irritate anyone. And I have a feeling he's going to be irritating a lot of people today. So he likes you. You should do your thing." He gestured as though he was a magician.

The last thing she felt like doing was talking to Boyd. She knew exactly what was eating him, or at least she presumed it had something to do with waking up in her bed. Boyd being Boyd it was also possible something happened on the way to work. "My thing?"

"When he's on one you go in there, talk to him, placate him. He yells a little. Sometimes you yell a little. You chastise him and then he comes out a new man."

"Technically he just doesn't bark at us quite as much," Stella offered.

Grace rolled her eyes.

"Do you really want him pissed all day?"

She momentarily pondered what the day would be like if they didn't at least reach a détente of sorts and it really wasn't going to be all that much fun for anyone, besides, as she concluded, the quickest way to them being able to be friends again was to actually talk. Taking a deep breath, she walked towards Boyd's door. Knocking lightly, she walked in and dropped onto his couch. After a lengthy and awkward silence, during which he continued to stare at the papers on his desk and refused to meet her eyes, she finally spoke. "By consensus I've been nominated to brighten your day."

"You always do that." He failed to look at her.

Grace scanned the room, debating whether to hurl a heavy object in his direction. She decided on a gentler approach. "So, next time we go out we should avoid the cheap red wine," she offered quietly but playfully, toying with her hands in her lap. "Maybe stick to places that charge more than seven pounds a bottle. Of course you'll have to pay, I can't afford it."

He finally looked up at her, startled by the lightness of her tone.

She held his gaze. "Stop taking it so seriously, Boyd," she chided. "It not exactly the first time it's happened in your life. At least you were dressed, I was dressed, nothing happened other than two old friends got drunk and passed out."

"Half dressed, Grace," he said quietly, the feel of her satin skin imprinted in his brain.

"And I thought I looked pretty good for my age." So what if she was a few pounds heavy than the last time a man had been in bed, she wasn't twenty-one anymore and she was more than willing to look past his faults, of which there were many.

"Grace!"

"I know I'm not . . ."

"You looked pretty good for your age. I noticed." He stopped and glanced at her before looking away. It wasn't that he was embarrassed about what happened. It was his reaction that concerned him. She was one of his closest friends, probably his only real female friend and for a brief moment he had been in her bed, toying with her hair and wanting to kiss her. It was the exact situation he promised he would never get himself in, not least because it was the perfect way to ruin a friendship and Grace knew him and his quirks far too well to even consider a date with him. "It's just inappropriate."

"Ok." There wasn't really anything else she could say, or rather there was nothing else she could say to reason with him.

He glanced over at her, surprised. "Ok?"

"I just don't feel like over-reacting. Maybe I'm too old for all the awkward morning-after-ness. I did enough of that in my teens."

He raised an eyebrow, expecting her to elaborate.

"I'll tell you about it next time we get drunk." Grace rolled her eyes and rose to her feet. "For now, get over it." She counted as she made her way towards the door, her hand on the door handle before she turned, a wry smile on her face.

Boyd was staring at her, his face revealing nothing of what was going through his brain.

She moved to leave then changed her mind, deciding that it had to be one of those now or never opportunities. "I guess I should share something with you."

He leaned forward in his seat, wondering what she was going to say next.

"They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks but they never seem to anticipate that the old dog might have a few old tricks up their sleeve. And you know, the old ones are the best." Her smile widened, "I guess what I'm trying to say, Boyd is . . ." She paused, blushing at how silly she sounded, "You don't know what you've missed." With that she left his office, not wanting to see if he was horrified at the prospect or mildly intrigued.

Boyd sat rooted to his seat, his jaw dropping as he contemplated what she had said, wondering if he was imagining the insinuation in her words, hoping that maybe for once they were both on the same page. His lips tweaked upwards into a smile, whatever, something told him they would be going out to dinner very soon.

The End


End file.
